


Chocolate Eggs at the Lunar Cafe

by hilaryfaye



Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cafe AU, F/F, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-24
Updated: 2013-04-21
Packaged: 2017-12-03 10:31:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 10,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/697302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hilaryfaye/pseuds/hilaryfaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Lunar Cafe is an unassuming enough place, a cozy little diner like you always see in the movies. To a small group of regulars, it becomes a home when they don't want to go home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Regulars

The Lunar Cafe enjoyed the distinct advantage of being situated neatly between the university and the business district. It was a cozy little place, the kind you always saw in movies, and Aster was rightly proud of it.

Sandy liked to come there between the breakfast and lunch rushes, tucking himself into a booth with a pencil and a sketchpad, sketching one or two of the people in the cafe. Most were strangers, but Sandy had been coming to the cafe for a few months, and felt he had a good sense of the regulars. 

There was Jack, who had an affectionately antagonistic relationship with Bunnymund. Whenever he showed up, Aster would usually ask, “Shouldn’t you be in class?” They joked an awful lot, though it was clear that sometimes they wanted to strangle each other. There was a story that Sandy had only heard hints about, something involving bucket loads of fake snow and an Easter egg hunt. 

Always arriving just before the usual lunch rush was Tooth, majoring in orthodontics. She had a gaggle of sisters that Sandy couldn’t keep straight, but who frequently showed up with her. They giggled a lot, and seemed to like bright colors and hummingbirds. 

North, of course--he was taller even than Aster, who towered over most everyone, and twice as broad. He was a presence, filling the cafe with his stories (a fair number of them involving bar brawls and getting arrested--but that was before he’d gotten his life straightened out, of course.) Sandy particularly liked North, though his presence could be overwhelming. 

Of course one couldn’t forget Aster himself--six and a half feet of bad-tempered Australian, as far as Sandy could tell the only things Aster loved were chocolate and eggs. He got as excited about Easter as most people did about Christmas. (Though no one got as excited about Christmas as North did.)

There was one morning regular, though, whose name Sandy hadn’t learned yet.

He came in at nine o’clock exactly every morning, according to Aster. He sat in the same booth near the back, only ever ordering toast and cup after cup of black coffee, either typing on his computer or scribbling illegibly on what Sandy could only assume was a manuscript. 

He never talked to anyone, but it seemed like some of the others already knew him... and were avoiding him.

“I’d leave him alone if I were you, mate,” Aster told Sandy. “Not exactly the friendly sort.”

Something about the lanky stranger fascinated Sandy, though. He certainly didn’t look like he belonged in that cafe. Some businessmen came in, but they were mostly the older sort, or meeting with a client. Pitch looked like he might be among the businessmen, but the hours he came into the cafe were rather odd for one, and if he was, he dressed well enough that he would have looked perfectly normal in one of the ritzier restaurants that got reviewed in the paper.

Not to mention he might have ordered something other than toast.

“Hey, Sandy, how ya doin?” Jack slid into the seat across from Sandy. In part of his continued semi-rebellion against society, Jack had again neglected to put on shoes, in spite of Aster’s “No Shoes, No Shirt, No Service” sign on the door. 

Sandy smiled. “Good.” He was never very talkative, but no one at the Lunar ever seemed to mind. 

“Hey,” Aster barked, “I told you to wear shoes the next time you came here.”

Jack grinned and wiggled his bare toes at Aster. “Whatcha gonna do, old man?”

“I’m going to kick you out, you wanker.”

“Thanks but I’d rather have the pancakes,” Jack said, winking. Bunnymund rolled his eyes. “And apple juice!” Jack called.

Sandy smiled. “Don’t you have class?”

“Aaw, now you sound like Bunnymund,” Jack said, propping his elbows on the table. “I do, actually. Never did care much for Trig.” Jack leaned over the table, glancing at Sandy’s sketchbook. “Pitch is your latest victim, huh?”

“Is that his name?”

“Yeah, Pitch Black.” Jack lowered his voice when he said the name, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Pitch hadn’t heard him. “You haven’t heard of him?”

Sandy shook his head.

“Hoo boy, Sandy, have you been missing out.” Jack glanced over his shoulder again. “Guy did some major jail time. Even used to be in the military, though that was ages ago, apparently. Everybody’s been talking about him.”

“What was he in prison for?”

“I don’t know. I’ve heard a few theories but all of them sound crazy. Somebody said his conviction was appealed and they won because it turned out evidence had been ‘improperly handled’ or something like that.”

Sandy glanced at Pitch again. He didn’t exactly look like the hardened criminal type. He was wearing a waistcoat, for pity’s sake. 

“Wuh-oh, Sandy,” Jack said, grinning, “You like the bad boys, don’t you?”

Sandy gave Jack a withering look. 

“S’alright, your secret’s safe with me.” Jack winked again, and looked up. “Aw, Kathy! How’re you?”

Katherine was the Lunar’s sole waitress, and just about the only person that Bunnymund seemed to have a soft spot for. 

“Calm down, Jack, I only brought you pancakes.” She smiled. “Sandy, can I get you anything else?”

“Just a little more coffee, please.” Sandy smiled. He drank his coffee with far too much cream and sugar. 

“Sure thing. Oh, and Sandy, Uncle Ombric was hoping you could drop by. He has something or other he wants to hear your thoughts on.”

Sandy nodded. When he looked up, Pitch was collecting his things to leave. He paid his bill, and left without saying anything else to anyone. “I dunno, Sandy,” Jack said, “He’s good looking enough but I figure you’d be better off with someone else.”

Sandy rolled his eyes, sipping at his coffee. He wasn’t interested in a relationship with Pitch Black.

He just wanted to get to know him.


	2. The Good Booth

Toothiana stumbled into a bookshelf when she noticed the girl who’d just walked into the university bookstore. She was taller than almost everyone else, and gorgeous. High cheekbones, green eyes, long black hair… wow.

The girl was leaning over the counter, asking about an order of books. Tooth slipped between a pair of shelves, pretending like she wasn’t completely awestruck. 

“Could you be anymore obvious?” Her sister asked.

“Shh,” Tooth whispered, peering over the top of her math book. “I think I’ve seen an angel.”

Her sister shook her head. “So are you going to go talk to her or are you going to lurk in the shelves like a creeper?”

Tooth didn’t have to make that decision, it turned out, because the girl turned with her books over her shoulder and spotted them, and came over to introduce herself. “Hi, my name’s Seraphina.”

“I’m Tooth,” she said, wondering where her sister had gone. “I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

“I transferred.” She paused, smiling a little shyly. “Don’t suppose you could show me where the Santoff Claussen Hall is? I have a lecture there in half an hour.”

“Sure.” Tooth tried to play it cool, but Seraphina probably could have asked her to run away to Vegas to elope and she would have agreed. “What’s your major?” she asked as they strolled through the campus. 

“Environmental Science,” Seraphina said. “You?”

“Orthodontics.” Tooth tried not to stare. “Are you staying on campus?”

Seraphina’s smile faltered, as if Tooth had reminded her of something she didn’t want to think about. “Um, no. I’m staying with my dad. I might get a dorm in the fall, though.” She adjusted the bag of books on her shoulder, shoving one hand in the pocket of her blue jeans. “You?”

“Oh, no I have an apartment.”

“We probably won’t have much class overlap then, huh?”

“Probably not,” Tooth said. “But uh, hey, there’s this little cafe just down the street—the Lunar—do you want to meet up there, sometime? They have the best sandwiches in town.” Tooth smiled. 

“Sounds great,” Seraphina said, smiling back. “Maybe lunch?”

“Sure! I get out of class at eleven thirty.”

“I’ll be there.” Seraphina disappeared into the hall, and Tooth did a little dance where she stood. “Yes,” she whispered to herself. That had all gone rather smoothly. 

Only one thing left to do: make it through lunch without making a fool of herself.

…which, now that Tooth thought about it, might be harder than she wanted it to be. 

Tooth got there a few minutes before Seraphina did. “You look excited,” Aster said, refilling someone’s coffee cup. 

“I think I have a lunch date,” Tooth said, grinning.

“Oh?” Aster raised an eyebrow. “Someone I know?”

“No, she’s new.” Tooth couldn’t stand still. “Can I have the good booth, Aster? Pleeeease?”

“It’s free for the taking,” Aster said, smiling. “Make a good impression.”

The ‘good booth,’ as it were, was the booth right in the middle of the left side of the cafe, with the best view of the park. Only regulars ever asked for it. 

Tooth fidgeted at the booth, watching the sidewalk for Seraphina. 

Seraphina had clipped up her hair, and it looked like she’d gotten rid of her book bag. She rode up on an old bicycle, chaining it on the empty bike rack. She slipped through the doors and looked around for Tooth.

“Over here,” Tooth called. She smiled, running her fingers through her hair. Tooth was conscious suddenly of her shimmery clothes, somewhat rumpled, and the fact that she hadn’t even checked her reflection before Seraphina arrived.

She wasn’t dressed anywhere nearly as brightly as Tooth—her shirt was dark green, her jeans gray, and the only bright thing was the gold butterfly clip in her hair. Seraphina slid into the booth, propping her elbows on the table. “I didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

“Not at all, I’ve only been here a little while.”

Katherine was just a little too johnny-on-the-spot getting to them with the menus. “Hi, Tooth,” she said, smiling. “How’re you doing?”

“Uh, hi Katherine. This is Seraphina—”

“Oh, call me Sera,” she said. She smiled at Katherine. “Just got here a few days ago.”

“Oh, wonderful! Where are you staying?” Katherine asked.

“At Riverside,” Sera said. “Seems nice enough.”

“Riverside’s a nice place,” Katherine agreed, pressing the menus down on the table. “Well, I’ll leave you two for a little bit. We have a special on the onion soup today.”

“The Riverside’s a pretty expensive neighborhood,” Tooth said, impressed. 

Sera shrugged. “I think Dad got a special deal on it.” She didn’t seem very eager to discuss her father. “Where do you stay?”

“Oh, my apartment’s on the other side of town—it’s on Pearl, one of those neighborhoods that art galleries just can’t wait to gentrify.” Tooth had always been a little resentful of those types of people. She’d lived on Pearl for the last four years and she felt more at home there than she ever had anywhere else.

Sera smirked. “Sounds like my kind of place. I don’t know, I think Dad only likes Riverside because no one ever tries to talk to him. It’s stuffy.”

“You should see Pearl Street. I mean, it’s not for the faint of heart…” 

“Are you implying I might be frightened off?” Sera looked over her menu. “Bring it.”

Tooth smiled.

“What do you recommend?” Sera asked.

“Any of the paninis.” Tooth was quiet a moment, and added—“I can show you the Pearl anytime you like.”

Sera smiled at her menu.


	3. Talking to the Moon

**Pitch**

“When did you start introducing yourself by your pseudonym?” Seraphina dropped her book bag by the door. “I heard someone gossiping about you today.”

Pitch didn’t look up from his bills. “I thought, given the circumstances, that it would be better if not everyone knew who I was.”

“You’ve never even published a book.” Seraphina leaned across the half wall between the door and the kitchen. “Besides, someone’s going to figure it out sooner or later. They’ll google you.”

“Do people do that?”

Seraphina gave him a look that told him it should be obvious. She straightened up, retrieving her things. “I’m going out, Friday night. I don’t know when I’ll be home.”

“Alright.” He stared at his bills, not really seeing them. He and Seraphina had used to be so close. She was twenty two now, and a total stranger to him. 

Pitch waited until he hear her bedroom door close to get up and go to the desk, pulling the key out of his pocket. The drawer was full of old photos, mostly, but a few other things. A lock of Seraphina’s hair from when she was a baby, his wedding ring. 

He sighed, turning through the photos. The ones of her mother had been tucked away elsewhere, and he rarely looked at them. God, Seraphina had been so small… a skinny child, always. All elbows and knees, like a fawn. 

Pitch didn’t hear her coming back down the hall. “Dad?”

He jumped. Seraphina walked over, looking at the photographs. “Did I always look like a horse?” 

“You never looked like a horse.” Pitch pulled out a picture of her in her Easter Sunday dress, at the age of seven. “Remember that dress?”

“Mom made it for me. I hated it but I didn’t want to say so.” Seraphina tucked her hair behind her ear. “That was the year I punched Sally Hart in the nose when she tried to steal from my Easter basket.”

“I thought her mother was going to run me over,” Pitch said, smiling to himself. “You gave Sally a bloody nose.”

“I never did like her.” Seraphina moved to the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah?”

“You ever been to the Lunar Cafe?”

“I go there quite a lot, why?”

“I dunno, seemed like a nice place, thought you might know something about it.” She pulled out a bottle of orange juice, taking a long swallow. “You don’t really like it here, do you?” She gestured around the apartment. “It’s so…”

“It’s so what?”

“So something Mom would have picked. You know, well-groomed, family friendly, respectable.” Seraphina shrugged. “It’s just… not you.”

He closed up the drawer again, sliding the key into his pocket. “Perhaps you’re right. Frankly, I think I’ve outstayed my welcome. It wasn’t easy, securing this place at the price of rent I got it for.”

“Why don’t we go someplace else then? Someplace cheaper.” She took another long swallow from the orange juice. “Since we’re sort of pinching our pennies.”

Pitch tried not to hear the quiet stab at his unemployment. He may not have known Seraphina very well, but he knew when to hear what she wasn’t saying. 

Seraphina changed the subject. “How many words did you write today?”

“Ten thousand.”

She made an expression that seemed to say she was impressed. “A good day, then?”

“Very good.”

“I’m glad.” She sat on one of the kitchen stools, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. “I met someone today.”

“Did you?”

“Mhmm. Had lunch together.”

“Is she pretty?”

“Oh yeah.” Seraphina smiled. “And smart, too.”

Pitch sat on the balcony with a beer. The sun had long since gone down, but he felt restless. Seraphina was inside, doing homework or some such. 

He was worried. He had no job, not many prospects of getting a new one, and no real idea of what he was doing. For whatever reason, Seraphina had decided that she wanted to move to Burgess and stay with him, despite the fact that they hadn’t seen each other face to face in… nearly ten years.

He rubbed his face. There was only so much of that he could blame on the army and the war. His own personal failings had certainly fulfilled their own role.

He’d missed so much. And because of his own stupidity. 

Pitch looked out over the lazy river, wondering what he could have done differently. What he might even have the chance to fix, now.

Seraphina’s phone was ringing. He could hear her answer it from his seat on the balcony.

“Hi, Mom. Hmm? Oh, yeah, first day was great. Mhmm. I’m fine.” There was a long pause. “He’s fine, too. No.” Another long pause. “Really, Mom, everything’s good.”

Pitch looked skyward, though the city lights had hidden all the stars. The moon was visible, just behind some clouds. “Hello, Old Friend,” he said, raising his beer to the moon. “If you have the damndest idea what I’m doing, you’re one step ahead of me.”

“Are you talking to the air?” Seraphina was in the door, having apparently ended her conversation with her mother. 

“If it makes me sound any less crazy, I was talking to the moon.”

Seraphina arched an eyebrow. “Alright then. Well, I’ve assured Mom that you’re not holding me hostage and that we’re not living in a drug den.”

“That was good of you.”

“You know it wouldn’t hurt you to actually meet someone.”

Pitch glanced at his daughter. “Please, stop there. This isn’t some father-daughter movie where you’re going to fill out a personal ad for me.”

“I’m just saying, you’re becoming a hermit crab. Can you at least, I don’t know, make a friend?” She turned back inside. “Just because you’re writing a horror novel doesn’t mean you have to make people think you might be a serial killer.”

Pitch shook his head. “Whatever you say.”


	4. What To Do

Where exactly Jack lived was a subject of much debate. Generally he could be counted to crash on someone’s couch, but occasionally he had been found sleeping in such odd places as the back seat of Aster’s car, the front steps of Tooth’s apartment, near the heater in North’s workshop, and even in the cafe itself. It was assumed, but never asked or stated, that Jack didn’t live anywhere. 

He had a box at the post office, but that was largely only used once or twice a year, when a birthday card from his mother and sister would arrive. He didn’t even have a cell phone, and he was notorious for running up a tab at the cafe, though if it ever got too long he would make it up by doing some of the chores neither Aster nor Katherine wanted to do. 

This particular morning, Jack was waking up on Sandy’s sofa. 

Sandy’s house wasn’t very big, but it was pretty nice. Lot’s of things were yellow and gold, and there was more mermaid art in that house than Jack ever saw anywhere else. 

Jack stretched, wiggling his toes in the air. He could hear Sandy bringing in the morning paper, and when he rolled to peek over the couch, the short little man was skimming the front page, his face furrowed with worry. “Hey, Sandy, is it alright if I use your shower?”

Sandy nodded without looking up from the paper. 

Sandy’s shower was generally pretty warm, but Jack could finagle it to a cold setting if he gave it a little time. Everyone looked at him a little funny if he said he preferred cold showers, but Jack didn’t really care. He showered to wake up as much as he did to clean up, and he didn’t like to be rose pink when he got out of the shower. Made the rest of the world seem nicer, anyway, if you showered in ice water. 

Jack scrubbed his hair, shivering as the drops ran down his back. He supposed he should actually go to class today. It would make everyone else happy, anyway. Jack wasn’t an idiot, he knew they worried about him.

“You can’t sleep on sofas forever,” Tooth said. Whether she meant it or not, Jack heard--At some point, you’ll outstay your welcome. 

He knew that, too. Jack sighed, splashing his face once more and cranking the shower handle until the water stopped. He toweled off, ignoring his too-skinny reflection until he’d pulled his hoodie over his head again. 

“There’s cereal if you want it, and bread for toast.” Sandy folded the paper under his arm. Sandy usually let Jack have free reign, though Jack didn’t like to stay longer than he had to. Sandy already gave him so much, he didn’t want to impose. Jack had to work out little ways to repay the favor, though Sandy didn’t really need any of them. Jack would find some mermaid knick knack, or tidy up the living room and the kitchen, shovel the walk when it snowed. 

“Not going to the Lunar today?” Jack pulled on his boots. They frowned upon shoeless-ness on campus.

“No, I think today I’ll check up on the library.” Sandy had God-only-knew how much money tucked away from some trust fund, but he liked to donate a massive amount of it to the library. He gave Jack birthday presents every year without fail, too—in shoes and socks and sneaky contributions to his tuition that Jack pretended not to notice.

He rummaged through Sandy’s cabinets for cereal, and made a sandwich to take with him. Jack had a sort of policy—if somebody wasn’t scrounging for rent, he’d let himself make a sandwich before he left their place. The few bucks that he didn’t spend on lunch that day could be spent on dinner. Nobody ever commented on it, but he knew they noticed.

Jack wrapped the sandwich in wax paper and stuffed it in his pocket, grabbing his school bag and heading off. For a moment, he almost felt normal.

“Morning, Jack!” One of Tooth’s sisters rolled alongside him on her bicycle. Jack couldn’t really remember her name—everybody called her Baby all the time anyway. “Are we actually going to see you at the college, today?”

“Yeah, you will.” He smiled. “How’s Tooth? I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“Probably dreaming about that goddess that walked in the other day. You might like her, she’s a force of nature.”

“What d’you mean?”

“Somebody was creeping on her and she cleaned his clock. I don’t remember the last time I saw someone throw a punch like that.” Baby swung off her bicycle, walking it next to Jack. “Tooth’s completely lovestruck.”

“Huh. I’ll have to meet her.” Jack stuck his hands in his pockets. They were quiet for a bit. “D’you ever wonder why we bother with this stuff?”

“You’re not going to have another existential crisis, are you?” Baby smiled at him.

“Nah,” Jack said. “Just thinking.”

There was another silence. “There’s a party Friday night,” Baby said, “Do you want to go?”

“Sure. The Pearl?”

“Nine o’clock,” Baby said, nodding.

 

Jack spent most of his time in class doodling, though he still did better than most of the people there. “You know, Jack, if you actually put effort into this, you could be a truly remarkable student,” the professor sighed. Jack only shrugged.

He wasn’t always sure why he kept going to classes. Maybe it was because he didn’t feel like he had anything better to do.

He’d have to get a job at some point, though. He couldn’t mooch off of everyone else forever. Maybe Aster would let him work at the café, if he asked nicely. He didn’t like to work but it seemed to be a necessary evil.

That was the problem, Jack supposed—he didn’t know what he wanted to do, he just knew everything he didn’t want to do.

His father had wanted him to get into law. That hadn’t gone over well.

Jack supposed he ought to call his mother sometime, let her know that he hadn’t dropped off the face of the earth.

But Jack didn’t like to think about that.

Actually, he thought, sitting on the edge of a low concrete wall, what he ought to do was see to it that Sandy actually talked to that Pitch guy. That would repay more than few favors, Jack was sure. 


	5. I'm Good, Really

“We really appreciate everything you’ve done for us, Mr. Mansnoozie,” the head of the library board assured Sandy. “We would never have been able to afford the repairs to our roof or the upgrade of the heating without you.”

Sandy nodded, his sketchpad tucked under his arm. He’d lived in Burgess for a long time, and he’d always felt slightly boggled that the library never seemed to have quite enough money. He suspected there was some mismanagement going on, at the very least, but he didn’t have the heart to make an accusation. He’d have to hire someone to investigate, eventually, he supposed.

“…and of course, Mr. Mansnoozie, if you have any suggestions for the board to take into consideration…”

Sandy was mostly ignoring the head of the board. It was the same speech every time anyway. It was only meant to keep him on friendly terms with the board so that he would continue to donate.

He noticed a black car pulling into the parking lot. A few years before, it would have been considered rather high-end. These days that particular model had been abandoned in favor of newer, sleeker ones. It’s owner either didn’t care much for the fashion, or hadn’t the money to indulge it.

The door opened, and Pitch Black slid out of the car. Sandy couldn’t help but stare. The man was good looking, there was no denying that fact. He was thin but not boyishly skinny, and his hands… 

“Mr. Mansnoozie?”

Sandy realized he had stopped walking, and that the head of the board had finally noticed his inattention. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly. “Thought I recognized someone. You were saying?”

The head of the board began to prattle on again, and Sandy did his best to be slyer about his observation of Pitch. 

He had a small stack of books, and had arrived just in time for the library to open. He slipped through the doors without taking any notice of Sanderson. His head was bent and his face lined with concentration, as if he was puzzling over some inner thought. Sandy turned back to the head of the board, wondering if they were going to insist on another embarrassing dedication to him. Within a few years, the library was likely to be named after him. 

 

“I think Jack actually went to class today,” Aster said when Sandy came into the cafe. Sandy arched an eyebrow. “Well he hasn’t been here.” 

It would be good if he had. Sandy worried about Jack. He slid onto a stool at the counter, ordering his usual creamed coffee. Aster could always be counted on for the latest gossip. “Tooth had a girl in here the other day. Looked like they were getting on well.”

“North?”

“He’s got some new project he had to tell me all about. You know how the bloke is.” Aster smiled. He was in a good mood—probably because spring was on its way. The cold weather was starting to break up, sunny days were more common. The flowers planted just outside the cafe would bloom again. 

“How are you Sandy?” Bunny asked, more seriously. He had that look of concern Sandy did his best to avoid. 

“I’m good, really.” Sandy sipped at his coffee. 

Aster watched him a moment and nodded. “I haven’t seen that new bloke around for a few days either. That Pitch guy, you know the one I’m talking about?”

Sandy nodded. 

“I think that girl Tooth met is his daughter. Not sure though.” Aster straightened up as the door opened behind Sandy. “North, mate, how are ya?”

“Wonderful, wonderful!” North boomed, shouldering up next to Sandy. “Sandy! Long time no see, how are you?” Sandy only smiled. “Bunny,” North said to Aster, “I must ask you a very serious question.”

“For the last time, Nick, I’m not letting your little friends have their reunion party or whatever in my cafe. They nearly blew the place apart, last time.”

“It would just be a small gathering—”

Sandy doodled on his sketchpad while the two bickered, Katherine dancing around them to serve other customers. “Sandy I was wondering,” she said as she brought him a new cup of coffee, unprompted, “do you think we could have a proper birthday party for Jack this year?”

Sandy raised his eyebrows.

“Well I’m asking you because you two seem close. At least, I think Jack cares about you the most.” Katherine tucked her hands into her apron. “It’s just that usually we sort of just give him gifts and that’s the end of it. I was talking to Aster and he said we could have it in the cafe. Just a few of us, you know? I think Jack deserves it.”

Sandy nodded, and smiled. “Be happy to help.”

“Great,” she looked relieved. “Don’t tell Jack, I want it to be a surprise.”


	6. The Pearl

Seraphina had spent over an hour turning through her closet before she’d found exactly the blouse she wanted. Her father was in the living room writing or something, so he hadn’t noticed her absence yet. 

Seraphina wriggled into her jeans, foregoing jewelry and wondering if she should put on any makeup, though she rarely wore it. She sighed, frowning at her reflection. 

Being twenty two and living with her father hadn’t exactly been her ideal plan. She’d only gone for it because she wanted the cheaper rent... and she wanted to see for herself what her father had become while he was away. She wanted to see how many of the stories were true.

She knew one thing for certain: Burgess didn’t have a single clue about Kozmotis Pitchiner. 

It helped a little that he’d started introducing himself as Pitch Black. No one seemed to have bothered to dig deeper yet, to figure out that her father was the disgraced general that they’d no doubt heard about on the evening news. 

They must have heard, how couldn’t they? He had killed--no. That had been an accident, Seraphina had to remember that. It was an accident. They all said it was. Even the people that wanted to hate Dad. Only the crazy wingnuts thought the had actually meant to...

She sighed, rubbing her face. It wouldn’t do her any good to think about that just before she was going out to a party. Anyway, it was years ago. Perhaps people had finally forgotten Kozmotis. 

She put the butterfly clip in her hair and gave herself a once over, nodding decisively. “I’m going out,” she called, retrieving her jacket and phone.

“Have fun,” he called, frowning at his computer screen. 

It wasn’t so bad, living with him. Not really. He was just unsure of how to connect with her, unsure of what he should be doing. He’d missed nearly ten years of her life--Seraphina was pretty certain that in his mind, a part of her was still twelve years old. The rest of him knew better, and more or less let her roam free. 

Sometimes, though, it was like living with a ghost. She only saw him occasionally.

She met up with Tooth just a few blocks away. Tooth was sitting on the hood of her car, legs folded and playing with something on her phone. She noticed Seraphina and jumped up, grinning. “Hey.”

“Hey.” Seraphina smiled. “Didn’t keep you waiting, did I?”

“No, I showed up a little early, just in case.” She was wearing a lot of shimmery things again--she sparkled under the streetlight. “A lot of my sisters will be there, I just wanted to warn you.”

Seraphina nodded. “I’m good with that.”

Tooth smiled in relief. “Great.”

The drive to Pearl Street was almost a prelude to the party itself. Tooth had a CD full of upbeat songs that she seemed to know every word to, most that Seraphina had only heard once or twice before. 

It was obvious when they hit Pearl Street--it was full of crumbling brick buildings that probably weren’t up to code, and run through with seedy bars and ancient tenements. “Nice place,” Seraphina said, grinning.

“Oh you haven’t seen anything yet,” Tooth replied.  She parked in a narrow lot and they made the jog up the stairs to the top floor. “Elevator’s pretty unreliable,” Tooth explained, “I mean, technically it works but it has this nasty habit of freezing between floors and the doors don’t always close.”

“Shouldn’t the landlord be having that fixed?”

“You’re joking, right? We’re lucky the plumbing works.” Tooth flashed another grin. “It’s not too bad. You get used to it.”

The top floor was dominated by a studio apartment--cheap only because it was terribly insulated, and boiling hot in the summer, not to mention an arctic hellscape in the winter. This was the apartment that Tooth apparently shared with several of her sisters--Seraphina stopped counting after she’d met five.

She couldn’t imagine having that many siblings.

The place wasn’t overcrowded but it felt kind of tight, buzzing with activity, and Seraphina sort of melted into it, glad to at last be meeting people someplace that wasn’t school. She had needed to get out and meet people. Her father’s hermitage wasn’t a lifestyle she felt any need to adopt, and she’d begun to feel smothered, being shut up in that apartment with nowhere to go. 

Tooth’s energy was starting to have an effect on her. Seraphina pulled Tooth along to dance with her, grinning at Tooth’s slightly flustered look. “Thanks for inviting me,” she shouted over the music. “I needed to get out.”

“Anytime.” Tooth smiled, seeming to relax. “I’m glad you came.”

As they danced, Seraphina felt almost normal again. She was having a good time, the drinks were flowing, and she wasn’t thinking about anything except where she was, and what was happening. 

Drink in one hand, Seraphina wasn’t sure when she had ended up with Tooth almost pressed up against her. Seraphina downed the last of her drink, putting the cup aside and turning her full attention to Tooth, her hand latched to the place where her shirt was curling up from her hip, stroking her soft warm skin with a thumb. Seraphina felt as if she were hyperfocused, noticing the dark feathers of Tooth’s eyelashes, the curve of her upper lip, or the brush of her leg against Seraphina’s.

I want you. The thought made its way somewhere between the loud music and shouting and the watching the bright colors of Tooth’s clothes flash and shimmer. It hit Seraphina like a train, almost knocking her flat. 

Tooth grasped Seraphina’s hand. “Come on,” she said, and pulled her towards the stairs. “You’ve got to see this.”

Seraphina followed her, her ears ringing as they hit the roof, leaving the music to a dull roar in the background. 

They could hear the cars rumbling below, and the lights stretching out and fading into blackness. The moon was the only part of the night sky visible. Seraphina hugged herself against the night breeze, wondering how far out of the city she would have to drive to see the stars. 

“There’s really no view like from here,” Tooth said. “Pearl sits on the highest hill in Burgess.”

Seraphina smiled, standing close to Tooth so that their arms brushed each other. “I love it here,” she whispered.


	7. I'll Try My Best

The party was winding down, and Jack hadn’t seen Tooth in over an hour. Baby, however, was insisting that it would be perfectly alright if he stayed the night. (What little of it was left, anyway.) “You probably won’t be the only one, anyway.”

Jack was about to ask what that meant when he remembered the amazon-esque girl that Tooth had been dancing with, the one that he also didn’t remember seeing for about the last hour. He sat on the sofa, rubbing his face and wondering how long the fuzziness in his head would last. 

Baby sat next to him, offering him a blanket. “Thanks,” Jack muttered. 

“We’d let you stay, you know, if you’d get a job and help with the rent.”

Jack pretended he hadn’t heard. 

“Nobody really expects you to find some sort of passion and have everything fall into place. We’re just worried about you.”

Jack put the blanket over his head like that would block her out. 

“Hey,” Baby said, pulling up the edge and sticking her head under the blanket. “I’m talking to you, dickhead. Have you called your family recently?”

Jack scowled at her. “I’m drunk is this really what you want to talk about?”

“Well unlike the rest of my sisters, I don’t want to get in your pants, so yes.” Baby pulled the blanket off of his head. “You can’t just run away from everything, Jack.”

He groaned and hid his head under his arms. “I’m not, I just don’t know what the hell I want.”

“Do you want a sandwich?”

“...”

“Well?” Baby prodded, nudging him with her elbow. “It’s not like we don’t have the food.”

“How is that at all a logical change of topic?”

“It’s not, but if you’re not going to answer my question I won’t make you one.”

“Maybe I’ll eat something when I wake up with a hangover,” Jack grumbled. Baby tossed the blanket over his head again.

“Alright. I’ll make sure you haven’t died in the morning.”

“I appreciate it.”

 

He hadn’t died, but he sort of wished he had. No one in Tooth’s family seemed to believe in being quiet in the morning, and he had one of the worst hangovers he’d ever had. _I didn’t even drink that much,_ he thought miserably. 

Tooth noticed he was awake and asked if he wanted any coffee. “No, I’m good,” he mumbled, palms pressed over his eyes. 

“The shower’s free but I can’t promise the water’s warm.”

“That’s fine.” Jack fumbled towards the shower. He’d smell like flowers by the time he was done. It was like everything Tooth and her sisters bought had to be floral scented. Still, he’d rather smell like roses and fuschias and peach blossoms than booze and stale sweat. 

When he made his way back out to the kitchen, feeling only marginally better, most of Tooth’s sisters had left. Tooth and Baby were chatting over toast. “...so she didn’t stay?” Baby asked.

“No. I took her home.” Tooth sipped at her coffee. “I don’t know, but I think we almost kissed.”

Baby nodded like there was some deep meaning to this. Jack slipped past her, rummaging through their cabinets for a pop tart. “I’ve been meaning to ask you guys,” Jack said, “Did you hear anything else about that Pitch guy?”

“You seem awfully interested in him,” Tooth said. 

“Not for me,” Jack said around a mouthful of pop tart. “Sandy.”

“Sandy?” Both of them looked surprised. 

Jack shrugged. “Yeah.” He sat on a kitchen stool, rubbing his face. “But you know Sandy, he’ll never say something first.”

“So, what, you’re trying to hook them up?” Baby looked skeptical. 

“Just get them to meet and talk, I think Sandy can handle it from there.” Jack wondered if there was a spare cup of coffee. 

“Well I haven’t really heard much,” Tooth said. “But I’m ninety eight percent sure that he’s Seraphina’s dad.”

Jack arched an eyebrow. “Sera--oh, that girl you were dancing with? Huh. Wouldn’t have thought he had a kid.”

“I wouldn’t have put it together except I saw him coming back from someplace when I took her home, and they started talking. Kind of hard to miss the resemblance when they’re standing right next to each other.” Tooth sipped at her coffee.

“All I know is he gives me the creeps,” Baby said. “Can’t say why.”

“Hmm.” Jack chewed on that thought for a while. He couldn’t say what it was, but Pitch didn’t bother him the way he seemed to bother everyone else. Maybe it was because Sandy so obviously liked the guy, but he didn’t think so. 

“Well I’ll clear off,” Jack said, hunting for his backpack. “Promised Sandy I’d look for a job today.”

“Really?” Tooth asked, straightening up. “Where are you applying?”

“Dunno yet.” Jack grinned at her. “I guess we’ll just have to see.”

“Hey Jack,” Baby called, “Promise me you won’t do anything stupid.”

“I’ll try my best.” Jack found his backpack behind the sofa and shouldered it. “I should crash at Bunny’s place, next time. He has manlier body wash.”

Tooth snorted. “I’m sorry that peach blossom isn’t manly enough for you.”

 


	8. Perhaps Not a Chapter, But a Piece of the Larger Story

North was deep under the hood of an old car, his beard tucked under his overalls to keep it from getting caught in anything. “I do not think it is good idea,” he told Jack. “Do not get wrong impression, I like you Jack. But you are, well, too impatient. You would get frustrated too easily, I think.”

Jack sat on the workbench. “Can I at least sweep up here for a little while? I just need a little pocket money, be able to pick up a few things.”

“You can sweep up,” North said, nodding. He pulled back, grabbing a rag and wiping grease from his hands. “But do not use that to put off finding real job.” He softened a bit. “We’re worried about you, Jack.”

“I know,” Jack sighed.

North glanced around the garage, and waved Jack outside. The sun was shining. “Your birthday is coming up. Anything in particular that you want?”

Jack groaned. “I hate answering that question.”

“Still. Something that is not clothes.”

“How ‘bout a car then I can sleep in that.”

“You could not afford gas, do not joke. What do you want for birthday?”

Jack shook his head. “I can’t think of anything.”

“Well you tell me when you do, huh?”

“Yeah, I’ll tell you.”

North didn’t really like the way Jack avoided asking for anything. He must have been really worried about asking too much of everyone.

It wasn’t that they weren’t prepared to help Jack; it was only that they had been helping him for a few years now. He needed to get his feet under him, to support himself. Secretly, North thought it was that Jack was afraid that when he didn’t need them anymore, that the others would leave him behind. He didn’t say that to Jack, of course. Jack wouldn’t have liked to hear it.

“Have you called your mother?”

“Yes,” Jack said, annoyed. “I called her.”

“And what did she say?”

“Oh the usual. They’re worried about me, want me to visit.” He put his hands in his pockets. Jack never talked about why he did not visit his family, but North thought there had been some kind of fight. An ugly one, to keep Jack in Burgess for so long.

North patted Jack on the shoulder. “It is good weather, yes?”

Jack smiled. “Yeah. Any odd jobs I can do for the moment?”

 

North and Bunnymund were sharing a drink that night, on the front stoop of the Lunar. Technically Bunny didn’t serve alcohol at the café, but he kept a few bottles in the back for after hours. “I am worried about Jack.”

“Who isn’t?” Bunny popped the lid off a new bottle. It had been a long day, so he was having two rather than his usual one.

“No, I mean that Jack is worried too. He is worried we are running out of patience for him.”

Bunny sighed, taking a long drink. “I like the wanker, I just get tired of him running up a tab.”

“I know, but…” North struggled for words. Even after all this time he cursed English as a language. “Jack does not want to disappoint us. He worries he already has.”

Bunny scratched under his chin, looking thoughtful.

“Do you think you could give him--?”

“Are you asking me to give him a job, Nick?” Bunnymund looked tired. “The boy can barely stand the chores he does here to pay off his tab, what makes you think he’d want to work here?”

“Jack respects you. Looks up to you. He would learn to tolerate it, if he thought you had faith in him.” North stroked his beard, thinking. “He really would.”

Bunnymund was quiet. “I’ll think about it.”

“That is all I ask.”

“Isn’t he doing some cleaning up for you?”

“What he can. He tries to get creative, to make it go by faster which… usually means disaster.” North drained the last of his beer. “Will be good Easter this year, yes?”

“Looks like it. I’ve already been stocking up on supplies.” Bunnymund smiled to himself. “I’m hosting an Easter supper. You coming?”

“I suppose I will make time in schedule,” North said with mock reluctance. Bunny gave him a shove.

“Aw, lay off it, old man. I know you like my Easter suppers.”

North laughed, setting aside the empty bottle. “How is Katherine?” he asked. North had spent a fair amount of time apprenticed to Katherine’s uncle, Ombric, and he considered her almost a little sister.

“Fine, far as I can tell.” Bunny leaned back on the steps. “Ran out early as she could tonight. Boyfriend, I think.” 

“How are plans for Jack’s birthday party coming along?”

“I dunno Katherine’s handling most of that. It’s her project. I only know she’s bullied me into letting her use the cafe.” Bunny smiled. “Knowing her and her uncle, it’ll probably be spectacular.”


	9. Compensation

Pitch scanned the paper, sipping at his coffee. The reason he came back to this cafe had little to do with the food (which he rarely ordered) and everything to do with the coffee. 

For all that Pitch found Aster Bunnymund to be bristly and unpleasant, his selections in coffee were unmatched. Premium roasts, and at a price Pitch could afford to indulge in multiple times a week. Not to mention that he could say he wanted “coffee” without then being queried on whether he wanted whatever froo-froo ridiculous name they had given to those drinks that were more cream and sugar and artificial flavoring than anything else.

Seraphina was sitting across from him, nursing a cup of tea, running her finger over apartment ads. She looked like she hadn’t gotten any sleep at all, which was becoming a worrisomely common look for her. Pitch had asked her if she thought maybe she was overworking herself, but she wouldn’t listen. Between her classes, her job at the floral shop, and whatever she was calling her social life, Pitch was amazed that she still had the energy to insist that she be the one to choose their new apartment.

She said it was so that he would have more time to look for gainful employment, but Pitch suspected it was because she expected to be paying a good portion of the rent.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t feel guilty about that--it was only that he knew the guilt wouldn’t do him any good. So he bought their groceries, cooked their meals, did Seraphina’s laundry and made sure everything was in order... whatever he could to make things a little easier.

She folded the paper and tucked it into her school bag, draining the last of her tea. “I’ve got to get going. I’ll see you at dinner.”

Pitch hummed in agreement, glancing at his daughter. She’d always been a mystery to him--even when she was little. One could never really tell what was going on in her mind.

But he was worried about her.

She said something friendly to Bunnymund as she went out the door, and waved at someone on the other side of the cafe. She was already fitting into this place better than Pitch, and she had only been there a few weeks. Seraphina seemed to fit in wherever she wanted to, without any difficulties whatsoever. She was like her mother, in that regard.

She sure as hell hadn’t gotten that from Pitch.

Pitch sighed, looking over the “help wanted” ads again, though few things made him more miserable. They all served as a reminder of what he was not, and what he would never be again. 

One of the most well-respected soldiers of his generation, and then--

No. No, he wouldn’t think of that, not now. Pitch took another sip of coffee, and something--or rather someone--caught his eye.

Why Pitch noticed the short, round blond man sitting just a few booths away, he couldn’t really say. He noticed the sketchpad that the blond was working in, concentration creasing his face, and judging from the way the waitress brought him a cup of coffee without his asking for it, the artist was a regular.

Pitch watched him a few moments and gave up on the ads, deciding to enjoy his coffee over an editorial instead. 

“Sorry, I hope I’m not bothering you.”

Pitch looked up. It was the round-faced blond, who was standing rather shyly next to the space Seraphina had just been occupying. “It’s just that I’ve seen you in here so many times and I’ve never caught your name.”

“I’m, um--” Pitch was a little startled. No one ever made an effort to talk to him, and usually he preferred it that way. He wasn’t very good at talking to people, particularly people he didn’t know. Caught off guard as he was, he felt about as composed as if he’d been pushed into a pool. “My name is Pitch,” he said at last. “Pitch Black.”

The blond extended his hand. “Sanderson Mansnoozie.”

Pitch stared dumbly at Sanderson’s hand, realizing only when Sanderson blushed and let his hand fall to his side that he’d been meant to shake it. “I’m sorry, this is probably going to sound a little weird,” Sanderson said, “But I was wondering if I could draw you.”

Pitch wasn’t sure what to say. “I--what?”

He explained that he was something of an artist, that he frequented the cafe a lot, and tended to spend a lot of time drawing the regulars--but he wanted Pitch’s permission first. 

Pitch struggled for words, aware that he was looking increasingly pathetic with his inability to answer. “What would I have to do?” he asked, guarded. He was wasting enough time as it was, not seeking out employment--

“Sit for an hour or two, maybe let me buy you dinner.” Sanderson smiled. “I’d be more than willing to compensate you for your time.”

Compensation. Pitch could almost imagine his wallet making a sprint for the the man in front of him. His face must have given something away because Sanderson sat down across from him, flipping open his sketchbook. “This isn’t nearly as good as my painting, but it gives you an idea of what I do.”


	10. Katherine

Uncle Ombric was the sort of person that people charitably called “eccentric.” He claimed he couldn’t remember his birthday (and therefore how old he was) so every summer on the twenty second of July (that being Uncle Ombric’s favorite day of the year) Katherine would make a cake and choose a random set of number candles to put on it. Last year Ombric had turned three hundred and forty seven. This year looked like he would be four hundred and twenty eight. 

But most importantly, Uncle Ombric knew a lot. He could make just about any machine, no matter how ancient and derelict, run as smooth as if it were newly made. He could speak Katherine-didn’t-know how many languages, and he always seemed familiar with any subject presented to him. Uncle Ombric said it was because he read anything and everything he could get his hands on.

“Katherine?” Ombric wound his way through the stacks of books in the living room. He had hundreds of them--Katherine had to keep all of her own books in her room, for fear of never being able to find them again among her uncle’s. 

“What is it?” She was working on what her uncle affectionately called The Novel. The Novel had been her project for about three years, a secret she’d kept close to her heart and had let no one else see, not even Nightlight. She was determined to have it published one day, but not until it was perfect.

“About this new fellow you’ve been seeing around the cafe...” Ombric trailed off. “I’ve a feeling I know who he is.”

“Really?” Katherine looked up. “Old friend of yours?”

“Not exactly. More like an acquaintance of a friend.” Uncle Ombric sat down across from her, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “I’m not sure though. He looks different than I remember.”

Katherine was too deeply involved in The Novel to notice that her uncle was being purposefully vague. He was worried about something, but he didn’t want Katherine to worry in case he was wrong. Ombric would have to do his own digging. 

“Did you say he had a daughter?” Ombric asked.

“Yeah, she’s been hanging around with Tooth. Seraphina, I think her name is--Seraphina Pitchiner.” Katherine noticed at her uncle tensed at the last name. “Uncle Ombric?”

“It’s nothing,” Ombric said, and quietly added, “I think.”

 

“Nightlight” wasn’t Nightlight’s actual name--but no one called him by his legal name except his parents. It was sort of that formal old name that parents loved and the kids that had them always hated, so his solution for that was probably the last nickname anyone would have expected a twenty year old guy to approve of.

“Let’s face it, I picked it because I’m so pale that I glow in the dark,” Nightlight usually said when anybody asked him about it. 

It was late enough in the evening that he would probably be awake--Nightlight worked the graveyard shift at some little corner gas station on the edges of town, and he’d worked that way for the last two years because he was the only employee that said gas station could keep on the graveyard shift. For whatever reason, he seemed to enjoy it, and he did such a good job that he made better wages than most of the people who ever had to work graveyard. 

Katherine let herself into his apartment, being quiet as she could just in case he was still asleep--thought Nightlight probably needed the least amount of sleep of anyone she’d ever met. He could be cheerful and bright on four or five hours of sleep, and on the same amount Katherine would have been about as useful as a drunk slug. 

Nightlight was in the kitchen with a mouthful of off-brand fruit loops. “Mmf--afternoon.”

“Afternoon, sunshine,” Katherine said, kissing his cheek. “Did you get the stuff for Jack’s birthday?”

“If by that you mean the candles, the cake mix, and the frosting-in-a-jar then yes, yes I did.” Nightlight smiled around his spoon. Katherine giggled. 

“Figured I’d drop by North’s place today,” Nightlight added, “He’s been fixing my toaster for me.”

“The one that you almost burned down your apartment with?” Katherine asked. “Why don’t you just get a new one?”

Nightlight shrugged. “North said he could fix it and I figured why not give him the chance. You know how he is, every little thing’s a challenge.” He smiled at her. “Want to go out for dinner?”


	11. Too Real

“You’re joking. You’re someone’s model?”

“Why’s that so ridiculous?” Pitch asked, glancing over the top of his computer at Seraphina, looking like he might be vaguely offended.

“You and the arts are not two subjects I think of together.” Seraphina was balanced precariously on the back of a chair, changing a lightbulb. Their new apartment was hardly what she would call desirable, but it was cheap, and it at least had hot water. “You don’t even know this guy.”

“I don’t recall having to ask my daughter for permission to do anything,” he replied. Seraphina was relatively certain he was working on his second drink that afternoon, which meant he was spending an awful lot of time staring at the blinking cursor on his screen. 

“That’s not what I meant,” Seraphina said, irritated. “I just mean it’s kind of weird, after how much time you’ve been spending avoiding any kind of social interaction.” She teetered to the left, and grabbed on to the edge of the wall for support.

“Have you considered getting a foot stool?” Her father asked, watching her try to regain her balance.

“Have you considered helping?” Seraphina shot back. “You’re taller than I am.” She teetered again and hopped off the sofa, stumbling into a chair. She’d never claimed to be graceful. 

Pitch got up, bringing a table chair with him and putting it squarely just to the side of the light fixture, stepping up to finish twisting in the new bulb. “As it is, Sanderson’s more than generous in his offers for monetary compensation.”

“On a first name basis already? I’m surprised.” Seraphina sat in the musty armchair, her legs thrown over one arm. “Mom called again today.”

“I hope she didn’t want to speak to me.” Pitch had his back to her, so Seraphina couldn’t tell how sarcastic he was being. 

“She wanted to know if you had a job yet, how my life as a florist was going.” Seraphina swung her feet in the air. “Actually she asked me if you were seeing anyone--” Pitch turned so quickly he knocked his elbow against the wall and started swearing, “--which I thought was really weird.”

“Why would she ask that?” Seraphina wasn’t sure if his voice had gone up half an octave because of his elbow or the question. 

“Hell if I know,” she replied, jumping out of the chair. “I’ve got to get to work.” Seraphina practically ran for the door.

 

It was strange--sometimes she wanted to just watch and observe her father, like she wasn’t so much in the same room as watching him on a television screen. Since she was a little girl he’d never really been present in her life. He was the general who always said he was coming home, but never really did. 

And now he was here, he was real and Seraphina felt--suffocated. Maybe even disappointed. 

When he was away he was whatever she wanted him to be--a hero, a mystery, the modern day version of a knight. 

But now he was here, and he was flawed, and hiding from the better part of the world, and broke. He was nothing she’d ever imagined, and nothing that anyone had ever said he was. He was too real.

And she still didn’t know just what the hell had happened. He wouldn’t talk about it--refused to. Said she shouldn’t have to know. Everything had been all hush-hush when the trial was going on, all she really knew was what he had been accused of--murder--and that while he hadn’t been put in jail, he had been more or less forced to resign his position. 

And she “shouldn’t have to know” the full story.

“Um... excuse me?”

Seraphina looked up, remembering she was supposed to be working. “Sorry. Can I help you?”

The guy in front of her was excessively pale, to the point where Seraphina was wondering if she should ask him if he was okay. “Just picking up a bouquet,” he said, giving a friendly smile. “I pre-ordered. It’s under ‘Nightlight.’”

Oh. That guy. Seraphina had spoken to him on the phone, and wondered just what the hell kind of name that was. She hadn’t expected him to be so... paint chip white. Even his hair was white, and it curled weird. 

“Right, just a second.” She turned to scan the tags on the ordered bouquets. She wondered if she should call Tooth--they’d texted some, since the party, but since the school and moving, Seraphina hadn’t really had time to see her. What was the right way to go about this?

She didn’t even know if Tooth was interested in her. 

“Are you alright?”

“Sorry, just distracted today.” She spotted the bouquet and pulled it up to the counter. Nightlight nodded. 

“You’re Tooth’s friend, right? The environmental science major.”

“Um, yeah. I guess.” Sera held out her hand to shake. “Seraphina Pitchiner.”

“Nightlight. Well, not really, but it’s better than my real name.” He grinned. 

Seraphina smiled. “Your real name must be awful.”

“Alas, it is,” Nightlight sighed dramatically. He took the flowers in arm. “A few of us are getting together down by the river Friday night. Tooth’ll probably invite you, but d’you want to come?”

“Sure, where at exactly?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo it's been a while since I updated and for that I'm really sorry. School and other things really took over for a couple of weeks. I should be more regular chapter updates soon. 
> 
> Thanks everybody for reading :)


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